Eye of the Storm
by Settiai
Summary: X-Factor (v3). Sometimes it seemed like these moments of calm were becoming more and more rare. :: Rictor/Shatterstar


Rictor grimaced as slime dripped from his hair, sliding down his neck and past the collar of his shirt. The stuff was starting to stink, and he was beginning to regret being nice and letting the women go first. Not that he'd really had much choice in the matter. Rahne had been the only one who had even bothered to ask. Terry and Monet had simply headed straight in the direction of the building's bathrooms the moment they had walked in the door.

Of course, so had Guido. Sometimes Rictor wondered why he even bothered.

"The upstairs shower's free," Monet said, still toweling her hair dry as she walked into the room.

The slime that had been making its way down Rictor's back hit the top of his jeans and kept going. "Took long enough," he grumbled, slipping past her and heading up the stairs.

Monet rolled her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

Rictor yanked off his shirt as he made his way up the stairs, not even bothering to try to keep the goo from dripping on the floor. He wrinkled his nose at its stench; there was a definite sulfur smell to it now that hadn't been there before.

"You do realize they're going to make you clean that up, right?"

Rictor paused, rolling his eyes when he noticed Layla sitting at the top of the stairs. "What do you want?" he asked.

She shrugged, but there was an amused twitch at the corner of her mouth that he didn't trust. "What makes you think that I want something?"

"Because you're you," Rictor shot back.

Layla's mouth curled into something resembling a smile. "There's someone in the upstairs bathroom already."

Rictor gave her an unimpressed look. "M's finally out," he said. "She just came downstairs."Layla shrugged before pulling herself to her feet and stretching. "Who said anything about M?" she asked.

"Terry and Guido are both downstairs with Madrox," Rictor said, holding up his hand and raising a finger for each person he named. "Rahne's using the downstairs shower. And Longshot has been threatened with severe bodily harm by three different people if he even thinks about trying to take a shower before those of us who actually got slimed get cleaned up."

"You're forgetting someone," Layla teased as she pushed past him and headed down the stairs. "I'm pretty sure he's kind of important. Also, he's waiting for you. Naked."

Rictor felt his face heat up slightly. "Oh."

Layla glanced back at him with a knowing look in her eyes. "Would you like me to tell the others they might want to stay downstairs for awhile unless they want a show?" she asked. "I'm fairly certain that Jamie's still scarred from the last time he walked in on the two of you—"

Rictor made a strangled sound, wondering for what felt like the millionth time if it was possible for him to die of embarrassment. "Layla, go away."

She grinned, giving him a mini-salute before turning and all but bouncing down the stairs.

Rictor reached up to rub his head. "I'm going to kill her one of these days. I swear that I am."

Shaking his head, Rictor walked up the last few steps and made his way down the hallway toward the closed bathroom door. He could hear water running inside, but it sounded as if it was coming from the sink instead of the shower.

He was half-tempted to just barge in, but knowing his luck Layla had been making stuff up and it was actually Longshot in there. Or Pip. Or both.

Rictor grimaced as he knocked. There was a thought he was never going to be able to get out of his head.

The sound of running water abruptly stopped, and the door opened enough for Shatterstar to peer out. He grinned when he saw Rictor standing there, apparently completely oblivious to the green slime congealing in his hair and oozing slowly down his bare chest. "I was starting to think you decided to take a shower downstairs."

"Rahne's still in the shower," Rictor said with a shrug.

Shatterstar nodded. "Oh, yes, I know. I was down there just a few minutes earlier, but she refused to share with me."

Rictor started to reply, but he changed his mind at the last second and closed his mouth again. He wasn't even going to bother. Not after the day they'd had. For what felt like the first time in ages, they weren't fighting, and he didn't think he had it in him for yet another rehash of the same argument.

He pushed past Shatterstar into the bathroom, not surprised to see that 'Star had already removed all his slime-covered clothes and dumped them unceremoniously in the corner. He dropped his own shirt on top of the stack, noting that Monet's clothes were piled there as well. Rictor suspected they were all heading out to the dumpster in the near future. Or possibly the nearest incinerator.

Shatterstar came up behind Rictor, leaning forward so that he could rest his head on Rictor's shoulder. "Today was very invigorating."

"Disgusting works too," Rictor said distractedly, trying to pull his slime-covered jeans off without accidentally elbowing Shatterstar. "I vote for disgusting. Can you go ahead and turn on the shower?"

There was a pause. "Yes, I suppose that word does work as well," Shatterstar said doubtfully. He pulled away from Rictor, and a few seconds later the sound of running water filled the room again.

Rictor leaned down and yanked off his the rest of his clothes, grimacing when he saw just how much slime had managed to end up sliding down his legs. No wonder he'd been uncomfortable.

He turned around, glancing at the shower to see a Shatterstar-shaped shadow on the other side of the curtain. Shaking his head, he walked over and got in as well.

The moment he was inside, Shatterstar wrapped his arms around him and kissed his neck. "Now we can have sex?"

"Now you hand me the shampoo and the soap and a washcloth," Rictor said, trying to keep his voice steady. Shatterstar's arms might be wrapped around his stomach, but his hands were resting a bit lower. "I'm not even thinking about sex until I get this green stuff off of me."

Shatterstar chuckled. "It certainly feels as if you're thinking about—"

"Shampoo, soap, washcloth," Rictor repeated firmly. "Sex will not be an option until I am no longer green.

"What about—"

"Shampoo, soap, washcloth."

Shatterstar made a disgruntled sound, but he finally unwrapped his arms from around Rictor. Rictor heard 'Star moving around a bit behind him, and a few seconds later there was a bottle of shampoo being handed to him from over his shoulder.

Rictor gratefully took the shampoo and squirted a much larger amount than usual into his hair. Then he handed it back to Shatterstar before reaching up to scrub as vigorously as possible. "You can't be green either."

Shatterstar sighed. "The slime isn't that bad," he said. He didn't actually protest, however, before putting the shampoo in his own hair.

For the next minute or two, neither of them said anything. Shatterstar reached forward to scrub Rictor's lower back a few times, ostensibly to remove slime though Rictor suspected there wasn't actually any slime there.

Rictor closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of the water on his skin and Shatterstar's hands occasionally brushing across his back. He could feel his irritation from earlier fading away, and he was finally starting to feel more relaxed now that he was clean again.

"You don't appear to be green anymore," Shatterstar said slowly.

Rictor opened his eyes, blinking a few times before glancing down. Then he half-turned around, eyeing Shatterstar critically. "Maybe not, but you are."

Shatterstar blinked and looked down. "I am?" he repeated, sounding confused.

Rictor nodded very seriously. "Yep, afraid so." He reached down and wiped away a tiny smudge of slime off Shatterstar's inner thigh, not trying to hide his smirk when Shatterstar shuddered just slightly at his touch.

"Ah, I see what you mean." Shatterstar nodded, his eyes twinkling in suppressed mirth. "I believe I see a bit of slime left on you as well."

"Oh?" Rictor asked, glancing down. "Is it the invisible kind?"

Shatterstar's mouth twitched, and Rictor could tell that he was trying his best not to break into a grin. "Possibly," Shatterstar said. "Give me just a moment, and I'll be glad to take care of it."

The next thing Rictor knew, Shatterstar had dropped to his knees in front of him and was running his tongue up Rictor's thigh, moving closer and closer to—

Rictor gasped, almost slipping as he unconsciously took a step back. He grabbed at the shower wall, trying to press against it without completely losing his balance. "Fuck!" he hissed.

Shatterstar pulled away for just a second, grinning up at him. His eyes were bright. "That's the plan, yes."

. . . it said a lot about his life that Rictor wasn't even surprised when, two seconds later, there was a blood-curdling scream from downstairs.

Shatterstar pulled away, a startled look on his face. "What was that?"

"Every time," Rictor grumbled, leaning back enough that he could gently bang the back of his head against the wall. He turned slightly so that he could turn off the water. "Every single time. Somebody up there does _not_ want us to have any fun."

Then he paused, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

"'Star," he said slowly, "what did you do with that decapitated head?"

A confused look on his face, Shatterstar pulled himself to his feet. "I brought it back with me, of course."

"Of course." Rictor kept his face expressionless. It took an effort. "And then you put it on display somewhere in our room?"

Shatterstar somehow managed to look both amused and affronted at the same time. "Of course not," he said with a huff.

Rictor raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything.

"Trophies of battle shouldn't be kept where no one can see them."

Rictor closed his eyes and rested his head against the shower wall again. He resisted the urge to bang his head against it. Barely. "It's in the refrigerator, isn't it?"

Even with his eyes closed, Rictor could practically see Shatterstar tilting his head. "Of course. Why? Is that some sort of problem?"

As if on cue, there was another strangled scream from downstairs, presumably coming from the direction of the kitchen. The sound of breaking glass was mixed in with it, followed by a loud crash that Rictor really hoped was the refrigerator door being slammed shut and not the refrigerator itself being slammed, well, anywhere.

"That sounded like M," Shatterstar said, sounding puzzled.

Rictor reluctantly opened his eyes and pulled his head away from the wall. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, it did."

Shatterstar suddenly grimaced. "Ah. The others weren't expecting to find it in the refrigerator."

"Probably not," Rictor said. He smiled despite himself when he saw the look on Shatterstar's face. "Come on," he said, pulling the shower curtain open and stepping out. "Let's go hide in our room and see if we can pick up where we left off."

A few feet away, Layla laughed. "Good idea. Next time, though, you might want to double-check that you lock the door."

Rictor nodded. "Good idea."

It took another second or two for him to realize exactly what he was agreeing with and who had suggested it in the first place.

Rictor lunged for one of the towels hanging nearby, frantically wrapping it around his waist the moment he got his hands on it. Shatterstar, being Shatterstar, just stepped out of the shower and stood there without even a hint of embarrassment.

"Seriously, Layla," Rictor exclaimed, "have you never heard of knocking?"

Layla was standing just inside the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with a nonchalant look on her face. She looked him up and down for a second before glancing at Shatterstar and doing the same. Then she shrugged. "I did. It sounded like the two of you were preoccupied."

Rictor's face actually felt like it was on fire. "Layla!"

She grinned.

"Layla," Shatterstar said calmly. "I believe you're making Julio uncomfortable."

If anything her grin grew even wider.

"Yeah, I think that's kind of the point, 'Star," Rictor grumbled, shooting Layla a dark look. "Did you need something, or did you just randomly decide to add voyeur to your résumé?"

Layla raised an eyebrow. "Who says it hasn't been on there for ages?"

Rictor opened his mouth. Then he closed it. There was absolutely no way he was going to come out on top in the conversation, and he knew it.

She winked at him; then her smile faded. "You two better get dressed," she said, sounding surprisingly serious for once. "Jamie's hiding in the office right now in an attempt to hide from flying refrigerators. He should be answering the phone any minute now."

"So?" Rictor asked, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Madrox has answered the phone before."

Shatterstar nodded in agreement. "To my knowledge, it only exploded afterward that one time. And he claims vehemently that incident was Longshot's fault."

Layla rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you two should get dressed. You're going to be interested in what Jessica Jones has to say."

Rictor snorted. "I doubt it."

"Trust me," Layla said. Her mouth was doing that amused twitch again, as if she knew a secret that she wasn't planning on sharing. "Remember, Ric, I know stuff."


End file.
